Fire of a Dragoon
by Waltz-of-the-Dead
Summary: When his entire camp is slaughered a young man staggers into Tavington's camp. MM Dont like then dont read, and sadly I dont own The Patriot or any of its characters
1. Blood of a Dragoon

Colonel Tavington sighed dragging his fingers through his thick brown hair, the lush amber ringlets spilling onto the tan skin of his broad shoulders, their ends slightly damp from his recent bath. He groaned stretching muscles that had become stiff from laying in the bath too long and sat down in a wooden chair and began to dry off his wet body. Reaching back over his shoulder he grabbed a piece of ribbon that had been draped over the back of the shay and slightly hesitated, the length of silk twisted through his fingers. He pulled his hair back tying the ribbon in a tight knot ensuring that none of his hair slipped loose. Sighing he glanced at his reflection in the piece of broken mirror that hung from one of the tent's support poles, and slightly paused. A malevolent smirk appearing on his lips as the words of General Cornwallis began to echo in his head. _"I stand on the eve of the greatest victory of my career. Don't fail me." _

Failure? It was a word that hissed through his mind like the lashing end of a whip making him cringe. It was not as is he had not gone through every measure of sacrifice to get the _General_ where he was. His smirk melted into a sneer and he eyed the glowing face in the mirror staring back at him critically. He still looked severe, commanding, and dare he say it _brutal_? Ha! He turned stiffly; grabbing his thin white, lace up under shirt from the rim of the tub pulled it over his head. "_Don't fail me."_ Kneeling down he grabbed his breeches and hastily tugged them on not bothering to lace up the crotch, and viciously pulled on his boots. He was suddenly eager to return his tent and review his maps, and charts a passionate rage was building in him now, a poisonous anger that made him laugh bitterly. Straightening he slightly hesitated at the tent's entrance, his nose inches from the white cloth. Absent of his uniform, he felt rapacious as if all rules that went with his rank his slithered from his body. Heh one could only wish.

Drawing in a deep breath of the thick steamy he savored the heat, so much like the vehemence that was smoldering in his chest. He exhaled slowly rolling his shoulders back before pulling back the flap of the canvass and stepping into the harsh, clawing cold of the night. A gust of howling wind greeted him, one that ripped and tore through his scant clothing making him shiver in intense delight. Ah the seer poetry that cloaked this miserable rat hole! Softly laughing he began to walk down the muddy path that was lined with small white tents, feeling the eyes of some of his men burning into his skin as he walked past. Heard them swallow, and their breaths softly hiss though their teeth, and shift uneasily in their blankets. He grunted in slight disgust rolling his eyes to the obsidian heavens. A women was hard to find in the days of war, so naturally a man's mind would stray the next most attractive thing he saw and that, the majority of the time was him. He could always feel their clawing gaze, dragging over his body, saw the glassy haze in their eyes when he stood before them giving them orders. Oh, he knew the look of animalistic lust, had seen it reflected in countless whores eyes as he pounded relentlessly into her body. _Filth..._ He continued walking onward, coming to a brief stop as a young soldier, in a hurry to get back to the warmth of his blankets, almost ran into him. The poor boy slide to a stop landing ungracefully on his ass his cloths becoming splattered with mud. He was new, Tavington could tell by the way the younger man gazed up at him threw thick lashes his dark eyes gleaming from the moon showing a trace of fear. Seeing the annoyed look on his Colonel's face the boy quickly averted his gaze to the ground muttering stupid apologies, having the dignity to blush at his clumsiness. He slowly picked him self up still looking down, his nose barely reaching his commanders throat, his cloths dripping with dirty water, his body shivering with cold shivering from the cold. Hhmm how delicious. Tavington felt a cruel grin beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth and he reached down curling his fingers under the boy's chin, lifting his head so his icy blue eyes were staring down into black. "Didn't they teach you manners boy?" he softly hissed tightening his grip his smile widening when he felt the soldier flinch. "When standing before a higher ranking officer, you are to bow." The last word came out as a snarl and he shoved the young man down his hand catching him by his long hair before he fell face first into the mud. Hauling the boy up right, and ignoring the soft cry of pain that fell from his victim's lips he softly laughed. "That's better isn't it," he whispered his ruthless grip turning into a light caress, his fingers brushing stray strands of the boys hair away from his face. Delighting in the fear that glittered in the soldier's eyes, watching as he slightly nodded. "Good. See that it doesn't happen again." He leaned forward his lips barely ghosting the young man's ear, his warm breath caressing the side the boy's neck. "Or I may just have to drag you into my tent and teach you some manners myself." His words hung icily in the air for moment before he brushed past the stricken soldier, his fingers barely caressing against the boy's side.

The young man stood motionless his body quivering with fear and arousal, Tavington's feathery touch still lingering on his skin, his hissing breath still swirling down his neck. Watching the broad shoulders of his captain as he stalked off to his tent. "E Makes you wan to break the rules doesn't e?" Startled the young man looked down at the soldier that had spoken and found him self-staring into amused green eyes. "Don't let is gentle touch fool you lad, he is as ruthless as a bayonet and twice as deadly." The other man nodded and began walking back to his tent his commanders touch still lingering on skin.

Morgan groaned staggering forward landing on his knees in the snow. Shivering he slumped forward crimson oozing from between his clenched teeth. Blood dripped steadily from his side, and fire twisting through his body, making him jerk and twitch. Gritting his teeth he pulled him self back up weaving his way drunkenly threw the trees. Ahead of him rising into the steel gray sky were thin wisps of smoke marking the location of a British encampment. The weary man staggered on, crawling in some spaces of time, walking in others. Constantly muttering to himself occasionally humming broken phrases of some unknown song, jumping at every little sound, sobbing. Soon he lost among the trees the only sign of his passing was crimson splattered snow.

Tavington glanced up sharply when he saw a messenger step hesitantly threw the opening of his tent. He felt his lips draw back in a snarl "What's the meaning of this?" the young man slightly shifted his voice catching "Sir th-they have found a soldier from General Meirion's camp…he…he is half dead Sir and slightly out of his head. Babbling something about a Ghost." Tavington was already on his feet his voice a low growl "Well don't stand there gaping, moron, bring him to my tent." The young herald nodded scurrying from the tent in a swirl of red and blue, Tavington looked after him disgust written across his face, mindless idiots.

A short while later, a young man staggered in supported by two men, his side was partially bandaged and dark with blood and his long hair had been pulled from his young face in an attempt to make him look half presentable. They set the soldier down in one of the many chairs in the room, slightly bowing before they left the room. The young man sat deathly still staring at the white of the tent wall his eyes glazing and blank, his body trembling from shock.

Sighing Tavington walked over him and pulled him to his feet steering him to the extra bunk that lay at the back of the room. "What's your name boy?" he softly whispered pulling the thick blanket aside and easing his guest onto the cot. The young man was silent for awhile but when he spoke it was so quiet that Tavington had to lean forward to hear him "Morgan Sir…." The Colonel nodded gently pushing Morgan onto his back reaching under the cot and pulling out a pint of bourbon and some clean stripes of linen. He drew his ever-present dagger from his hip, glancing up as the soft whimper that fell from Morgan's lips.

The young man had pulled him self over to the side of the bed whispering raving words of promise. "N-No…no more…please I'll do anything you want. I will be good…please don't." Tavington slightly raised an eyebrow pulling the young man closer flinching at wail of fear that spilled form Morgan's lips. He placed a gentle hand across Morgan's mouth quieting his cries of protest and when he spoke his voice was tight with frustration. "I'm not going to do anything that isn't necessary. No stop that horrid wailing before I really give you something to sob about" His harsh words had the desired effect and the young man lapse into silence, a quite broken only by his pitiful whimpers. Tavington grit his teeth pain lacing from behind his right eye the silently berated himself for losing his temper. Swallowing back his anger he decided to take a different approach to calming the little whelp.

Taking a deep breath he began to talk in a soothing voice the words and falling gently from his lips, he spoke gently his fingers brushing against the young mans forehead. Watching as Morgan's eyes closed, then in a single skilled smooth movement ran the razor sharp dagger under the young mans tattered uniform and split it down the middle. Exposing tanned skin curved muscles and bloody bandages. Tavington could tell that the work had been done by the young man's own hands, it was sloppy and hung loose in some places.

Carefully, he began slice away the filthy cloth breathing through his mouth as the smell of puss and infection hit his nose. The wound was badly infected caked with dried blood and oozing puss, the skin around it a harsh red that faded into a sickly yellow. Morgan was lucky he had been found another day like this and he would have been dead. Turning his head Tavington shouted for some hot water and a clean cloth. Then returned to removing the rest of the bandages stopping only when the young man's voice reached his ears.

"It was the Ghost you know…." Morgan softly whispered turning his crazed eyes to look at the Colonel raising a hand to gently lay it on top of Tavington's arm "He came upon us in the night while we slept, slaughtered most of our regiment. I…I was made to watch…I…." Tavington lay light finger against the boy's lips his eyes showing pity, and slight scorn. "Be quite Morgan," he whispered his thumb going to caress the young mans cheek. "Hush now and rest." The soldier nodded relaxing slightly turning into the Colonels touch his eyes closing. Tavington drew his hand away, cutting away the last of the bandages glancing at the tent entrance as the soldier came in balancing a bucket full of steaming water and a pile of cloth. "Set it down beside me, I don't want to be disturbed for the rest of the night."

The guard nodded placing the bucket next to his Colonel before leaving. Softly muttering to him self, Tavington dipped the cloth into the steaming water and began to wipe away the clotted blood on the wound. The bullet had gone deep but thankfully had missed any major organs. He could see the faint gleam of silver through the blood and pushed the thin tip of his dagger into Morgan's body cutting away pieces of flesh. Swallowing at the odd sucking sound the bullet made as it was finally cut free. After cleaning the blood off he placed the bullet on the edge of the small table that was next to the cot. Taking the rest of cloth he wadded it up, sticking it inside the wound he dribbled the skin around it with bourbon making sure it was smeared around the edges of the slash.

Then carefully he began wrap the wound, making sure it was tight he tucked the end into the top of the dressing. By then he couldn't tell if Morgan had passed out or was just sleeping but at least some color had returned to his cheeks and his breathing was no longer ragged. He gently pulled the blankets over the sleeping man and tucked them in around his sides the last thing the boy need was to catch pneumonia while trying to heal from infection. Quietly Tavington picked up the bucket of bloody water and tossed outside his tent. He wearily pulled the ribbon from his hair and began to change for bed pulling off his uniform coat and shirt. Wearing nothing but breeches he shuffled over to his cot and burrowed under the covers. Outside the night wind howled carrying with it biting snow, the sky was gray and harsh, a promise to coming bloodshed.

Morgan slightly stirred under the heavy blanket opening his eyes, to a most interesting sight. Tavington stood not to far away naked from the waist up brushing his hair back with a long toothed comb. He pushed the thick strands away from his face tying his hair tightly behind his head so none of it would fall forward when he donned his hat. Morgan silently wished that Tavington didn't have to pull his hair back, and he suddenly longed to run his fingers through it…. His eyes strayed down to the Colonels well-muscled torso and he swallowed the commanders skin was tan and criss-crossed with scars. With a thin line of brown hair that trailed from his navel into the waistline of his breeches and despite him self Morgan slightly moaned. The noise immediately made ice blue eyes snap in his direction and Morgan quickly closed his eyes, slightly shifted under his blanket. He heard cloths slightly shift and felt warm breath wash down on the side of his face. A gentle hand was laid on his forehead followed by quiet murmuring, before it was drawn back. He heard the tent flap rustle as the Colonel walked out, Morgan didn't move for a few more moments making sure that Tavington was gone before he re-opened his eyes. He turned over on his back and stared at the canvas of the ceiling. Faintly Morgan could hear Tavington his voice harsh and commanding as he spoke to a pair of scouts that had apparently located an enemy camp. He sighed and felt safe for the first time in three days. Allowing Tavington voice to carry him away to sleep.

When opened his eyes again the tent was bathed in golden candlelight, and Tavington was sitting next to his cot a book propped open by his fingers, his long hair down brushing shoulders. The Colonel glanced down at him, shut his book and gently lay it on the floor. "You're hungry I suspect," he said standing, watching as Morgan pulled him self up into a sitting position. He nodded glancing down at his blanket his lips a thin line, looking up only when the weight of a tray was placed carefully on his lap. "Thank you Sir…." Tavington remained silent returning to his seat bracing his elbows on his knees he leaned forward watching the young man eat. Impressed that he ate slowly and didn't wolf it down shamelessly like most of the soldiers did.

When Morgan was finished Tavington removed the tray and ordered him to lie on his back. Morgan did so hesitant watching as Tavington drew back the blanket and began examining his wound. A soft blush crept on his cheeks. One that grew darker as Tavington glanced up at him a sly smile slightly tugging at the corners of his mouth. Morgan looked down embarrassed for thinking of a high officer in such a way. Tavington gently rested his hand against Morgan side and feeling him slightly jerk away, only increased his amusement. Nodding he pulled the blankets back up to the young mans waist but remained kneeling by his side. "Now that you seem to be feeling better… tell me of what happened to your regiment."

Morgan slightly paled and swallowed hard closing his eyes, "There really isn't much to tell Sir." Tavington smiled his voice suddenly smooth holding a certain venomous charm to it "You are a brave man Morgan…a valiant man loyal the Crown and England." He gently lay his hand on top of the soldiers his face calm and gentle. Morgan swallowed his dark eyes partially closing "The day before, we raided near by settlement weeding out the militia, traitors, killing most leaving only a few. But there was this man that laughed while we killed him, screaming out the vengeance of the Ghost would kill us all, we thought him mad and paid no mind relieved that a slit throat finally shut him up. But it was that night…we were all asleep, I don't know when the killing started only waking up and looking the blue eyes of a man who carried an tomahawk. I was hauled roughly to my feet my hands bound behind my back and thrown into a line of other men they head decided to spare. The killing when on for hours, some they tortured, some they didn't, some they mangled others they left where they lay.

The screams filled the night filled my skull until I thought I would go mad with the sound. Then it stopped the last man killed then, their leader turned to us a smile on his bloody face his voice terrifyingly calm 'Do as you please,' his men softly laughed and came at us. They slaughtered most us where we stood, but left two, another soldier and me. He halted his men then walking around us eyeing us as if we were slaves his fingers gently brushing against our backs, whispering horrible things in our ears. He forced us to our knees and drew the edge of his ax along our cheeks, a wicked smile on his face. Fearing the pain of torture I tried to break free and he shot me pressed his gun to my side and pulled the trigger. They he killed the other man slit his throat, and left thinking we were all dead…."

Tavington slightly nodded his eyes smoldering his hand absent mindedly squeezing Morgan's hand hard enough to make the young man wince. Tavington looked up at the young man "As I said you are brave…," Morgan bowed his head closing eyes against tears. Sighing when he felt gentle fingers on his chin lifting his head and lips softly kiss his own. He gasped unknowingly giving Tavington access to his mouth a tongue swept across his own, possessively.

The Colonel tasted just as he thought like expensive wine, and harsh winter he groaned opening his mouth wider, further accepting the kiss. Tavington broke away after a moment, his breathing, calm his face smooth his hands resting on Morgan's thighs. "A shame that you're wounded, else we could indulge in other more…amusing activity." Morgan swallowed still tasting the Colonel in his mouth closing his eyes as his commander placed a tender kiss on his throat. "Rest easy," he whispered and pulled away. Morgan sighed whimpering at the loss of contact as Tavington pulled away.


	2. Blood of a Dragoon: A Dragoons Fury

Blood of a Dragoon Part Two: Of A Dragoons Fury 

Tavington pulled away smirking at the flush look on Morgan face. "Ah such a shame," he whispered his smile turning into a roughish grin, one that made his icy eyes gleam. He reached forward and lightly trailed his fingers along the side of Morgan's face. Licking his lips as the young man turned, craving the Colonel's touch, sighing contently.

A benign laugh trickled past The Commanders lips and he delicately traced Morgan's jaw line with the tips of his fingers. Neither of them spoke, and only the sound of their breathing could be heard mixing with the howling wind that wailed outside. Both were content to just regard the other, absorbing every detail, memorizing the others face.

Tavington's gaze never wavered from the young face peering up at him. The smooth youthful complexion tanned by the sun, unmarked by age or scarred by the terrible claws of war. His eyes…his eyes were warm and content and held the look of a kind man, a man that seemed incapable of taking another life. They held the fire of passion, the flickering light of want, and a slight trace of fear.

His long straight obsidian hair tumbled to his shoulders, and his bangs hung loose from the ribbon that held them back. High cheekbones graced his face, and held the blush of golden candlelight and shadow. Morgan was an ethereal creature lain out before him, temptingly. The Colonel sighed how different this youth was from him!

But Morgan was just as captivated by Tavington. The young man was entranced by his icy blue eyes that pierced his soul, eyes that demanded respect, harsh eyes as wild and severe as winter. The eyes of a prowling wolf, of a predator, a killer. His face held the scars of war, and battle and his skin was tanned by many days of riding a horse in the sun. Thick brown hair spilled past his shoulders, and slightly curled down at the ends.

The Colonels hands were rough and callused from handling the hilt of a sword and the reigns of a horse, hands that Morgan was sure that were stained with the blood of many men. Unable to help himself, the solider reached out and gently grasped one of the Commander's hands in his own. Swallowing as Tavington gingerly closed his fingers around his hand.

The Colonel watched as autumn eyes closed his tongue going out to lick his dry lips. Morgan's breathing slowed and became deep an even, the young man had fallen asleep. Quietly the Commander gently unlaced his fingers from Morgan's, and stood shakily to his feet.

This damned boy would the death of him. Muttering he reached down and picked up his book, returning to his previous seat his eyes continuously straying to his guests sleeping form. His concentration was becoming muddled and hazy so much so that he read one sentence as least three times before it fully registered.

Growling he snapped the book shut and stood, furious at him self, acting like a damned lovesick puppy. He drew his lips back in a silent snarl and stalked over to the table located in the far corner of the tent out of sight of Morgan's sleeping form. _How splendid_.

He glanced down at the many maps that littered the table, and felt the agitation begin to seep from his body. Yes, this is what he needed, something to preoccupy his mind. Something to stop the raving thoughts that tore through his brain like a charging Calvary. He pulled back one of the leather-cushioned chairs and settled into a comfortable position, eyeing the map in front of him critically. The possibility of a full frontal attack was unlikely at least while it was still winter. There was always a threat of a rebel attack, but the camp was so well guarded that it didn't matter. Reaching forward he plucked his quill pen from its holder and smoothly drew an X over the camp marked Meirion.

Morgan's eyes slightly fluttered, and opened just as the roar of a pistol shattered the calm of the night making his body twitch instinctively. He glanced around the tent wildly, disorientated his half-awake mind screaming at him to find a weapon. Another shot snarled in the night mixed with the shouts of men, bringing the young man more fully awake.

The candles in the tent had burned out and he could only see the faint outline of some of the objects in the room. He glanced over to Tavington's bed and found it empty the blankets thrown back hanging limply over the edge of his cot. His jacket was gone along with his pistol and sword.

Morgan rolled out of bed searching blindly in the dark staggering forward to the tent's entrance. Outside all Hell had been unleashed, and as Morgan pushed back the flap of the tent he stumbled cursing, tripping over the dead body of the guard that stood outside Tavington's tent. The young man winced as he felt the delicate flesh if his healing wound reopen the warm trickle of blood slide down his skin. He looked back at the fallen man.

His throat had been cut and his eyes carved out of their sockets leaving two gapping holes staring at Morgan. Swallowing the youth reached down disarming the dead man, taking his pistol and shoving it into the waistband of his breeches. He reached around and groped for the hilt of the dead mans saber. The blade fell free of its scabbard flashing in the night joining the pistol at his waist.

Ahead of him pistol smoke rose with the spirits of men to the cold sky, creating a dim haze that settled over the entire camp. Morgan broke into a jog when he heard the unmistakable savage voice of Tavington, snarling out orders over the loud keening of gun shots. Mud splattering up from around his booted feet, landing on the pale faces of dead bodies. He glanced around wary, clutching the hilt of his sword tightly in his right hand, noticing that the white of some of the canvas tents was flecked with blood.

The garrison suddenly ceased opening up into a vast field lined with trees. The snow was stained and slushy with blood and littered with the mangled bodies of men. He had missed most of the battle and the enemy had retreated to the cover of the trees escaping into the thick forest. Only a few remained standing at the edge of the woods watching in horror at the scene that was unfolding before their eyes.

Tavington stood poised into the middle of the field flanked by soldiers, his boots shining with blood, the silver of his sword tainted crimson. Before him on his knees was a rebel, his shoulders heaving and blood dripping steadily from him mouth, both hands clasped tightly over his middle hiding the evil slash where the Colonel had mortally wounded him.

Tavington rolled one of his shoulders back and began walking around the fallen man, the point of his sword dragging in the mud the harsh steel softly chiming against the wet earth. Morgan heard a soft chuckle and glanced beside him, a soldier was standing next to him, blood running from a shallow gash on the side of his face, dripping to the snow. "He's about to show them why he is called The Butcher."

The words were a quiet hiss and seemed to slither through the bloody slush of snow, making Morgan shiver. He didn't reply entranced by the horrid scene in front of him. Tavington struck fast and hard, seizing the young man by the hair and hauling him up, twisting him around sharply so that he was facing his terror stuck friends. A perverse smile tugged on the corners of the commander's mouth and his eyes burned ice as they gazed at the two men glaring at him.

The Colonel leaned forward his lips barely brushing the Rebel's ear one arm shifting to grasp his victim around the waist, the other sliding up to the young man's throat the edge of his sword pressing against the soft flesh of the boy's neck.

The motion was abrupt and swift the blade of the sword easily sinking halfway into the Rebel's flesh, silencing the gurgling scream, Tavington wretched his arm back letting sword slide free from the young man's half severed neck, flecks of blood flying up in a sickening arch.

Smiling he let the body fall at his feet giving it a ferocious kick sending it rolling on its side the head lolling grotesquely. His raving laughed filled the silence of the field slicing the cold air faster then Death's scythe.

He turned slightly waved his hand and the men surrounding him opened fire their bullets hitting nothing but trees. Morgan felt his knees slightly buckle his mouth slightly open still in abhorrent awe of what he just witnessed. The solider beside him softly lay a hand on his trembling shoulder "You alright lad?" Morgan nodded numbly his tongue going to out to lick dry lips. "I…I how could he just…."

The man beside softly laughed "He is heartless but he has to be, he has to make them remember him, to show them that he was not as weak as Meirion…." Morgan swallowed suddenly dizzy, his side was damp with fresh blood and world was starting to spin. He felt his eyes close not feeling the strong hand that gripped his shirt and dragged him forward. A harsh voice yelling at him fading as stinging blow hit him across the face "What the bloody hell are you doing out here, insolent whelp…."

Tavington sat leaning back in his chair his booted feet propped up on the desk in front of him, slowly twirling the blade of his dagger between his fingers. He glanced to the sleeping young man on the other side of the room. Morgan had been silent for days, neither looking at him nor speaking but keeping his eyes averted, and flinching at the Colonels touch.

He grit his teeth, damn him, staggering outside in the cold with a healing wound to fight! Muttering darkly under his breath he suddenly slammed the blade point first into the expensive table. Watching as a fine crack snaked its way from the quivering weapon. Young, stupid, bloody arrogant idiot! He snarled snatching the blade from the table, stood pacing back and forth prowling like a hungry wolf, his cold eyes every once in awhile dragging over the young man laying on the cot next to him. He hissed between his teeth and he stalked over to the bed and dropped to his knees his fingers brushing against Morgan's cheek "Fool," he hissed "but a lovely fool."

Nightmares clawed at Morgan's mind, making him moan in terror, and twitch. Images blood soaked slithered through his conscious. Screams crimson stained mixed with the horrid sound of steel slicing flesh. He jerked awake, sweat covering his body and dripping from his face, and flung back the covers and staggered to his feet. His eyes glancing wildly around the room for Tavington, but the man was gone and the lid of his trunk had been opened; a clean pair of cloth's taken out. He must have gone to the baths….

Tavington sighed, his eyes slipping closed heavy like the steam that drifted thickly through the tent. He had chosen the biggest tub one he could stretch out in and let his tense muscles slowly relax. His mind began to wonder to the attempted rebel raid that had taken place a few days before.

Praise the gods for that guard that stood watch outside his tent, god rest his soul, if he hadn't screamed the commander never would have been pulled from sleep and would probably be dead, along with Morgan.

"Hmm," he slightly opened one eye as he felt the water in the tub shift and found himself staring in the depths of rich, dark brown eyes. He swallowed and immediately water sloshing over the edge of the tub, the snarl dying in his throat at the softly spoken words that slipped from Morgan's mouth. "I thought you would like some company Colonel on this cold night."

Tavington opened his mouth then slowly closed it, he reached forward and drew the man into a loose hug reclining back to his former position, Morgan's head resting on his chest. The young solider sighed contently wrapping his arms around Tavington's neck stretching his body out on top of the Colonels.

Enjoying the slip of hard muscle beneath his wet skin, loving the feel of Tavington's thighs as they parted to make him more comfortable. The older man's steady heart beat making him softly smile, so calm compared to his own, which was hammering against his ribs. He slightly tilted his face when he felt gentle fingers delicately stroke his hair, and found him self staring into smoldering eyes. A forceful, demanding kiss was placed on his lips and he gladly opened his mouth gasping when he felt the fingers in his hair begin to roam to other, more sensitive parts of his body. Tavington pulled back a wolfish smile on his face, licking Morgan's lips he softly whispered against them. "You shouldn't be doing this your side is not healed completely." Morgan smiled shifting so that Tavington's length brushed his inner thigh "But it's worth it…isn't it?"

Tavington growled his head falling back to the rim of the tub, panting, shivering with an effort to control him self. Morgan gladly took advantage of the commanders exposed neck, licking and kissing the exposed flesh, marveling at the soft noises the man beneath him made. He swept his lips down to a prominent collar licking and sucking at the scared skin leaving behind red love bites.

Tavington groaned raising his hands to rest of Morgan's shoulder's, his breath hiss through his teeth "Morgan". Morgan stopped glancing up at the panting man a coy smile on his lips. "Yes Sir?" Tavington slightly glowered at the boy, liking the young man's cocky attitude. "No one asked you to be arrogant boy." Morgan laughed sliding up Tavington's body "Then why are you smiling about it, Colonel?" Tavington bared his teeth in a furtive smile suddenly switching their positions, grasping Morgan's shoulders tightly he rolled them over pinning the younger body beneath his own. "Lets see if we can wipe that impish smile off your face hmm?"


	3. A Dragoon’s Desire

A Dragoon's Desire Part Three of Blood of a Dragoon 

"Let's see if we can wipe that impish smile off your face hmm?" the whispered question made Morgan shiver and arching up he caught Tavington's mouth in a fiery, crushing kiss. The Colonel groaned enjoying this new side of the youth, oh how he hungered for dominance! He run his tongue over Morgan's teeth nipped at his lips until they were bruised and blood stained. Still the boy craved more, raking his nails down Tavington's back, writhing under him, moaning.

The Commander was only too happy to comply, his fingers roughly caressing the soft skin of the boy's inner thighs, leaving bite marks along his neck and collarbone. Relishing in Morgan's soft gasps and whimpers whenever he paid particular attention to sensitive areas or teasingly brushed his fingers along the younger man's length.

Amusement would shine in Tavington's eyes and he would repeat each little motion several times, getting slower and slower until Morgan thought that the man above him was seriously trying to drive him insane. His groaned his frustration falling on deaf ears making the Commander only increase his efforts, mirth dancing as fire in his cold eyes.

"Tease," the young man hissed through clenched teeth, bucking his hips into Tavington's his eyes closing. The Commander chuckled, nuzzling Morgan's neck whispering in his ear "If you don't like it then why do you moan every time I tease you?" He smiled running his fingers gently down Morgan's side savoring the groan that hissed between the young man's teeth. Leaning down he softly kissed Morgan's slightly parted lips shifting his position careful of the young man's wound. "My Morgan…" he softly whispered pushing stray stands of raven hair from his lover's forehead softly kissing his brow.

The young man turned his smoldering eyes toward the Commander "Yes Colonel?" Tavington smiled leaning down to softly lick Morgan's slightly parted lips tailing kisses to the young man's neck before he answered his lovers question "What is it you want?" he purred against soft skin rolling his hips down setting an agonizingly slow pace.

Morgan gasped his breath hitching in his throat his mind momentarily going blank his fingers twining in the Commanders thick hair. "I…I want…." His words came out as a harsh pant his fingers curling under Tavington's neck lifting his head kissing the older man forcibly on the mouth.

Pouring all his want, lust and passion into this single kiss making his lover groan in silent understanding. The Colonel seemed to understand and wrapped one of his arms around Morgan's shoulders tilting the young man up assuring proper leverage, and gently began to caress the young man's skin with the tips of his fingers. His eyes never wavering from the sight of beauty that lay before him, wet and writhing beneath his own body making his lips twitch in a dominate smile.

How he yearned to be inside this writhing body, lusted to feel his sweet unbroken heat surrounding him…he softly snarled in frustration causing Morgan to open his eyes. Tavington softly laughed kissing away the slight traces of concern that had leaked onto his lover's face. "Nothing love…close your eyes." Morgan complied slowly slipping back into his wanton state his body arching out of the water when Tavington ran his fingers over a deliciously sensitive spot. The Commander would gently push the young man back down again dipping his head to lick droplets of water from Morgan's graceful collarbone. Tavington's fingers strayed to the soft flesh of Morgan inner thighs his light caresses making the young man twitch.

His groans eagerly swallowed by Tavington's hungry mouth his fingers traveling from Morgan's thighs to his back his hips again beginning the slow pace. After a few moments Morgan was moaning his lovers name his hips fluidly meeting Tavington's his hands clawing at the commanders broad shoulders leaving behind red lines of passion. Tavington smiled when he felt heat wash across his belly and held the body close. Amazed at the tremors of aftermath that ripped through Morgan's young body.

He softly kissed Morgan wet hair and muttered soft words of love and comfort in the boy's ear. The Commander leaned back letting Morgan rest against his chest his fingers combing through rich hair made darker by water. Morgan looked up at Tavington with glazed sleepy eyes smoldering passion still lingering in their depths. He opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by Tavington's finger gently laid against his lips.

"Hush Morgan," he softly whispered leaning up and stepping out of the tub reaching down to help Morgan out. Entranced at how the water glistened on the boys tanned skin made golden by candlelight he unconsciously licked lips his appetite for the beautiful young man still not sated.

But his lust melted into seething anger when his eyes caught sight of the bandage on Morgan's side. "Bloody bastards," he hissed his voice harsh venom that made Morgan slightly flinch. The Commander suddenly pulled him into a fierce hug placing light butterfly kisses along the young man's neck and ear. "My Morgan…" he growled more as a fact rather then a term of endearment. Morgan lightly returned the embrace leaning against the strong Commander his mind at ease and licked away that water on Tavington's shoulders. "I think it is time that we retire to my tent, do you not agree?" Morgan nodded unwilling to let go of his lover and only did so when Tavington gently pulled away.

Morgan sighed contently and nuzzled his way farther under the covers pressing his face to Tavington's chest smiling when he felt gentle fingers caress his hair, petting him. The young soldier slightly titled his head, listening to the howling wind that ripped and torn outside tent, making him shiver. "What troubles you love?" the Colonel's rich voice slowly trailed its way to Morgan's ears. The young man gave a soft bitter laugh his voice slightly tainted with fear "The raving wind is his voice whispering in my ear." Tavington softly growled his arm tightly encircling Morgan's waist. "Nothing shall hurt you here, Morgan, I can assure you of that." Morgan only nodded drawing his body closer to Tavington's stronger one.

The Colonel gently sighed kissing the top of Morgan's head his hands slipping along the smooth skin of the young man's side his fingers stopping the gash that marred his skin. Savage blue eyes lit up with a cruel glint and he softly pressed down on Morgan's wound. The young slightly groaned his eyes closing as a soft tinge of fire laced up his spine. Tavington's eyes narrowed at the pained look that flickered across Morgan's face.

No wonder The Ghost had enjoyed torturing him so, the look of agony on Morgan's face was truly a beautiful sight…so addicting. Tavington eased his fingers from the wound leaning down to kiss the side of his lover's face. "Sleep now," he whispered his warm breath tickling the side of Morgan's neck causing him to tremble. The young man tilted his face up and softly kissed Tavington's mouth. The Colonel returned the soft gesture, his fingers splayed against Morgan's belly.

Morgan nodded and pressed his face against Tavington's chest, lulled and calmed by the commanders even heartbeat. The howling winds were now mere whispers…over come by his lover's strong breathing.

Tavington stayed awake long after Morgan's breathing became deep and even. He held the boy close in a strong embrace that was fiercely tender. He glared into the darkness his eyes dangerous and his lips pulled back in loathsome snarl. This Ghost was quickly becoming one of his new obsessions one that was beginning to occupy his mind even more then his beautiful Morgan. He ground his teeth savagely wishing he had something…no…someone to punish and take his anger out on.

Swallowing back the rage building in his throat his allowed his mind to stray to more…interesting things. He softly ran his fingers through Morgan's hair his fingers threading through cool sweat tainted strands. He kissed the top of his lover's head, relishing the scent of warm wine and sandalwood.


	4. Blood of a Dragoon: A Dragoons Thirst

Blood of a Dragoon

Part Four: A Dragoons Thirst

Morgan slightly flinched as Tavington ran his fingers over his wound. The commander was knelling in front of him his eyes tracing the delicate sweep of the gash. One of the Colonels hands was resting on the younger mans waist, his long tapered fingers spread across his back to keep Morgan steady as he was examined.

Tavington slightly snorted tracing the now thin cut with the tip of his finger. Though his face remained emotionless his eyes held a certain gleam of satisfaction. "You are healing well…which is surprising due the amount of…" He trailed off glancing up at Morgan's face, amused at the shade of scarlet that graced the young man's features.

Grinning like the edge of a curved dagger he leant forward and kissed the soft skin of Morgan's belly. The soldier gasped his fingers curling around the edges of his chair. Tavington laughed against his skin, licking a fiery trail to the edge of Morgan's breeches. His eyes shifting up only when he felt long fingers tangle in his hair.

He stopped his actions his fingers softly running along silken ribbon that laced up the crotch of Morgan's pants. His eyes suddenly snapped to the partially open flap of his tent. Faintly, they could hear soft thud of hoofs. Tavington slowly stood from his knelt position catching Morgan's lips in a fierce kiss. "We will continue this…examination when I return."

Morgan nodded his eyes rolling to the opening of the tent their amber depths holding a trace amount of fear. Tavington sighed his fingers brushing the side of Morgan's neck, "Don't fret I'm sure it's just a scout." Pulling on his jacket the Commander took one last longing glance back Morgan before he ducked out of the tent.The young man remained motionless from a moment trying in vain to slow his racing pulse. He smiled, leaning back in the chair, the whispers of Tavington's fingers still ghosting his skin. His Colonel was right; the gash was healing very well. He placed his palm over the wound and closed his eyes.

Tavington stood leaning casually against the support post his tent. His hat was tucked under his right arm, and he held his pistol loosely in his other hand. He eyed the scout before him with certain…disdain. Yes, that was an accurate description. To be even more honest the sight of the young heralds garrison colors made him slightly…nauseated.

The young man reined his horse the huge beast slowing to a trot before stopping before the irritated Colonel. There was a haughty glint in soldier's eyes as he gazed down at the Commander from his high position. With out even bowing a greeting he reached into his tunic and drew forth a sealed scroll. He casually tossed it to Tavington his voice carrying more authority then the commander thought necessary. "General Cornwallis expects your presence in Kingstown two weeks from this day…be sure you attend…."

Tavington gazed up at the arrogant little whelp a strained smirk plastered on his face. He nodded his hand tightening on the handle of his gun and when he spoke his voice was laced with venom. "Of course…I hope the…General is in good health…. Send him my regards wont you…_boy_?" The young man slightly reddened and opened his mouth only to hear the noise of a hammer being pulled back on a gun. "It would be wise to keep a civil tongue in your head because sometimes soldiers like you …often have unfortunate, nasty accidents…."

A smirk tugged at the corners of Tavington's mouth and he leveled the nozzle of the gun at the young man's head. "Now, kindly remove your worthless carcass from _my_ garrison." The herald before him snorted his voice laden with suppressed anger "My uncle will hear of this…."

"Go ahead and tell him," Tavington snarled a smile creeping across his features his voice becoming laden with sarcasm "I am sure he will hasten down here and kill me."

For a moment Tavington thought he had gone too far and that Cornwallis's nephew was going to swing down off his horse and fight him regardless of the pistol. He glared at Tavington his lips pulled back in a snarl his eyes flaring with rage.

Then the young man abruptly spun his horse, showering Tavington with dirt. The beast's iron shod hooves gleaming dully in the shadows of the trees as he trotted off. For a moment the Colonel thought of leveling his gun at the young mans retreating form and sending a bullet through his empty skull, then blaming it on the rebels. _'Oh, how deliciously tempting.' _Reluctantly he lowered his weapon…it would have been a waste of ammunition anyway.

When Tavington strode back into the tent he found Morgan just as he had left him. The young man glanced up at his lover and managed a weak smile "I didn't hear any gun fire…." Tavington sighed and laid his pistol on the table, his eyes smoldering with unspent anger.

He returned Morgan's smile and drew in a deep breath forcing the rage from his body. He reached forward and laid his hands on Morgan's shoulders softly nuzzling the side of the young man's face. Gently he let his finger slip down his lover arms until they reached his waist. He smiled against the soft skin of Morgan's neck as the young man shivered at the graceful, spidery touch.

He slowly knelt to his former position, his fingers tracing a light pattern across Morgan's hips to the very top of his breeches. Leaning forward he softly kissed the young mans healing wound, running his tongue over the new skin, reveling in his lover's soft cries and gasps of blurred passion. He was beginning to writhe in his chair his fingers gripping Tavington's hair so hard it was almost painful. The Colonel

He bit down on Morgan's hip relishing in the soft groan the escapes his lover's lips. Shifting his hands so that they stilled the younger man's wriggling hips he drew his head back to look at Morgan. His lover's eyes are closed tight and a light blush dusting his cheeks and neck, he was biting his lower lips so hard that a thin rivulet of blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Tavington spoke softly his eyes dancing with passion tainted with an animalistic lust. "Look at me, my Morgan." Slowly the young man followed the order settling his glazed on Tavington. The Colonel was smirking up at him, "Do not take your gaze from me…understand?"

Morgan nodded swallowing his breath suddenly hitching in his throat as his lover trailing rough kisses to his to his lower belly. Tavington softly laughed dragging his tongue across the silken ribbons that crisscrossed against the crotch of Morgan's breeches. The commander lapped at the silk, drawing forth wanton cries and moans from his lover. Tavington drank in these sounds moving his fingers from Morgan's hips to stroke his inner thighs.

The young man groaned his head tipping back tearing his gaze from the man knelt at his feet. He jerked when he felt a harsh bit on the junction of his hip and thigh. "Look at me Morgan," another nibble this one less rough "do not make me have to ask again."

Morgan's reply was ragged and tainted with a gentle sob "My apologies Commander…." and for a moment Tavington's breathe left him. The intense urge to pull Morgan from his…modest position and throw him into bed and ravish him until the next morning made him ground his teeth.

Softly snarling he drew in a shallow breath, cursing the heat that flared in his lower belly at Morgan's gasping need. Making sure that Morgan's eyes were unwavering he returned to his task. Holding his lover still he gently nipped at the fabric now tightly stretched across Morgan's crotch, silently enjoying the hardness beneath his lips. Thirsty for more of his lovers delicate, keening cries his fingers began to unlace the confining, silken ribbons of the Morgan's breeches.

The younger man gasped when he saw Tavington take him, his eyes rolling back in his head as his commander's heat consumed. Forcing him self to refocus on the enchanting figure knelt between his thighs, he lightly threaded his fingers through Tavington's hair. The older man drew away his hands slithering back up to the tops of his lovers hips. Hooking his fingers in the fabric of Morgan's breeches he slowly drew the garment down. Kissing and nipping at the new flesh that newly exposed skin, Tavington lightly trailed his fingers along Morgan's heat. His lover shuttered, a moan slipping unhindered from his lips, his eyes blurred trying, in vain to stay focused on his lover.

Tavington smiled enjoying watching the younger man squirm. He waited…patiently until her was sure that he had Morgan's full, undivided attention. Smirking he bowed his head, running his tongue along his lovers length to his the soft flesh of his inner thigh. He bit down hard. The thick, hot taste of blood filled his mouth and he moaned sucking at the shallow wound he caused.

Faintly he could hear Morgan's panting breath his voice pleading with him, begging him to take him, to end this torture. Tavington shifted his eyes up, staring into Morgan's amber eyes, desire turning their dark color to a shimmer brown that smoldered with unsatisfied fire. He grinned, his teeth tainted with his lover blood and slowly stood. Reaching forward he took Morgan's hand and drew him to his feet. Wrapping one arm firmly around his waist Tavington roughly pulled his young lover to him. He kissed him possessively hard, his other hand cupping the back of Morgan's thighs.

Tavington gently took a step forward pressing Morgan back to his bed. The young solider gasped when the backs of his knee's struck the side of the cot hand he was pushed backwards. Before he regain his sensed Tavington was upon him straddling his waist, grinding his hips forward at an agonizingly slow pace.

Morgan choked back a sob his voice spilling from his lips, begging "Please Colonel….I want you to…Taving…." His sentence shattered into a ragged moan as Tavington thrust hard against him.

The Commander's voice suddenly hissed in his ear, hot and thick. Morgan shivered at the words his Colonel hissed in his ear. "What do you want me to do Morgan?..."


End file.
